


Hell

by uglyinternet



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Apocalypse
Genre: Blowjobs, Dirty Talk, F/M, Hair-pulling, Oral Sex, Personal hell, young!michael langdon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2019-07-29 14:28:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16266116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uglyinternet/pseuds/uglyinternet
Summary: She’s surprised at his question. She’s even more surprised when he steps closer to her, her face inches away from the part of his body in question. Her breath hitches and if she had a beating heart it would be hammering in her chest.





	Hell

**Author's Note:**

> this is basically madison montgomery’s personal hell/scene with michael but with the reader/oc. hope y’all enjoy!!

Ending up in her own personal hell was not the way she thought her life was going to go. She had big dreams and even bigger plans, and being famous meant she could actually make those dreams come true. 

But then she got herself in a mess and winded up in a department store full of screaming customers and crying babies, and a boss that’s the literal devil.

Her life once had meaning, even if that meaning wasn’t the most prominent one and even if she is to blame for her untimely death, it had meaning to her. And now she had nothing. Nothing to look forward to, no one to hold a meaning conversation with besides the endless customers who were always the same snobby soccer mom or the annoyed housewife who wanted to return something used. 

Her life was now a never ending hell. Literally. 

She never thought she would actually miss social interaction with real people. The smell of clean air, or the sun on her skin. Even the touch of another person. Intimate or not. She craved it. But she knew it was something she could only fantasize about. There was no getting out of this place. 

The worst part about this hell was when she would be sent to refold something she has folded a million times but never seemed to ever stay in it’s neat form. Or hanging clothes on the rack that never stayed on their hangers, always slipping and tumbling to the ground. If this were a normal persons real life situation, she’s sure she would have back problems from the amount of bending over and lifting she does. But sadly the only thing she feels in annoyance and frustration. 

Sometimes she thinks she forgotten how to feel any other emotion. Or what it feels like to touch something other than clothes and towels and boxes, or what it feels like to touch a real life person and not a fake. 

Today was no different from any other day of eternity she has spent in here. 

She let out a heavy groan as she bent down to pick up the stack of linens that magically fell from the shelf she was pretty sure she fixed a few minutes ago. But time in here was non existent and at this point she could honestly be imagining things. 

She sat on her knees, grabbing each one of the linens as she folded them neatly into a pile. Hoping, but knowing better, that it would stay like this, neat and pristine. 

She turned to start on the other stack that had also tumbled to the floor when a pair of sleek dress shoes came to a stop in front of her. Looking up slowly as she prepared herself for some overbearing robotic costumer to yell down at her over something she may or may not have done. 

But when her eyes met a beautiful pair of blue ones her eyes widened in surprise. He looked different than the rest of them. He looked real. His hair was effortlessly perfectly done, his curls looking that of beautiful waves you’d see out at sea. He was wearing a black suit that looked so sleek she doubts it’s ever had a wrinkle on it. 

He was definitely not like the others here. 

“Hello.” His smile is genuine, real. His hands are behind his back and his stature is cool and collected, unbothered of his surroundings. Like it’s an everyday thing that he’s in someone’s personal hell. 

“Who are you?” She asks wearily from her place on the floor. “You’re not like the others..” she looks around to the miscellaneous of people who are aimlessly weaving in and out of aisles, dirty looks on their face, shooting her scowls. “You’re different.” Her eyes travel along every piece of him, studying him. Everything about him screams confidence and ‘I’m not from here can’t ya tell’ and he’s attractive beyond belief, and she’s not just saying that since she hasn’t seen a decent looking person, let alone a guy, in god knows how long. If she were to have met him before all of this she would have surely put on a show of flirting, might of even winded up going home with him. But this is hell and she doesn’t know if devil himself would even allow such pleasures of her in here. She’s here to suffer not get off. 

“You can tell?” His face contorts in interest. “Interesting. I would think most souls wouldn’t have any awareness in their personal hell.” He laughs softly. “The confusion would only add to the suffering.” 

“Well,” she huffs out. “I guess even in the after life I’m cursed with knowing more than I should, or anyone else. Maybe that’s a part of my never ending punishment of being in hell.” His lips pull up into a small smirk and it makes her smile slightly. Like actually smile. She doesn’t remember when she last smiled at all. She was sure you weren’t supposed to be smiling in hell. 

She sighs as she turns her attention back to folding the linens in her hands. “Who are you, anyway?” 

“I’m the man who’s gonna get you out of here.” 

She can’t help but let out a loud laugh, it echoing throughout the store. “Yeah, right. This isn’t heaven.” She reaches for the other fallen cloths, his foot coming to land on it before she can snatch it. She looks up to him and see’s his expression is stern. Finding no humor or joking in the matter. He’s serious. 

“What’s the catch?” She inquires. “There’s always a catch.” She rolls her eyes as she remembers the countless times someone offered her something, only for there to be a catch in place of it. Usually something demeaning or involving her money. “Do I have to blow you or something?” 

The thought isn’t a bad one. She’s done worse for things she’s wanted in her past life. And the thought alone makes her stomach drop, a feeling she hasn’t felt since she was alive. A feeling that goes straight to her core and has her pressing her thighs together even more. 

He watches her. He notices the way her pupils dilate after the words come out of her mouth. Joking or not, the air in the room shifts and he can tell that it’s no joke. Her manner completely changing. She’s eyeing him all over, her gaze traveling from his face, to his chest, to the part of him she wants most. 

“Do you want to?” He asks, his voice octaves lower than it just was. He steps forward, pushing the linens to the side to come even closer to her. “Would you like that?” 

She’s surprised at his question. She’s even more surprised when he steps closer to her, her face inches away from the part of his body in question. Her breath hitches and if she had a beating heart it would be hammering in her chest. But all she feels is the ache between her thighs and flutter of her stomach and the need to inch forward even more. And so she does. She inches forward to where there is no more space and she’s straining her neck to look up at him, as she replies with a needy, “Yes.” 

The corner of his mouth tips up into a smirk. He doesn’t say anything, not a yes, or go for it. But she feels like begging and she’s sure he’s waiting for it, or already knows with the look he’s giving her. And god knows when she’s going to get another chance like this, if what he says is true and he’s here to take her out of her or if his words were false. She doesn’t know. But she doesn’t want to let this chance slip away from her. 

Her eyes are like that of a does. Big, begging, needy, it makes the confidence within him rise, that to of a level where he feels cocky. This once so strong witch on her knees in front of him, begging to just get one touch of him. It excites him. Makes him feel even more in power. It makes him visibly hard and he swears he can see her mouth watering. 

And then he hears the magic words. 

“Please,” she begs. Her fingers digging into her thighs, wanting to reach out and touch him so bad, but he doesn’t seem like the type to not ask for permission first. His stance alone told her that about him. And her eyes are pleading with him as she stares up at him, hoping, praying he lets her. That he doesn’t say no and leave her high and dry. 

A simple nod is all it takes, her eyes linger on his for a few short seconds to make sure he really meant it, that this was really happening and with a smirk she knows he’s given her permission. 

Her eyes never leave his as as she reaches up to undo his pants. His hands coming to stop hers, shaking his head. Worry going through, maybe she read him wrong. But he’s pulling her hands back to unzip the fly of his pants. 

His pants probably cost more than her life she thinks. He wouldn’t want them on the dirty floor, she is slightly disgusted at herself for being on the floor. But to be on her needs in front of someone so beautifully intriguing she doesn’t mind. She doesn’t care. And when he pulls himself from the confines of his pants every thought she had of how this may be wrong and crazy and even in death she can’t control herself, leave her mind. And all she wants, all she needs, is him. 

Her hand loosely wraps around his dick, his eyes glued to hers. She wants to go for it, not to so slow, but he slows her actions down as he lets his hand come to the top of her head, running his fingers through her hair and down to her cheek, the heat of his fingers against her skin enough to make her moan. He doesn’t stop until he’s at her jaw, his hand gripping her chin, his thumb coming up to her bottom lip, the tip of it swiping across it before he slips it into her already open mouth. 

He doesn’t have to ask her, or tell her what to do she already knows what he wants as she wraps her lips around his finger and sucks. She watches him swallow hard as he watches her. His eyes never leaving her mouth, never looking away from the show she’s putting on. 

And after a few seconds her pulls the digit from her mouth and puts his hand on the back of her head, he doesn’t push her forward or force her head to his member. No. She does that on her own. Her mouth wet and ready for him as she leans forward and swipes the tip of her tongue across the head of his dick. Michael letting out a low hiss at the contact. It makes her smirk and soon she has her lips wrapped around his head, using her hand to stroke the area her mouth has yet to touch. 

His stare edging her to slide her mouth further down his length until her mouth meets her hand. He can see her eyes water from taking all of him in her mouth and he loves it. Loves the throaty moans that are coming from her, the way the vibrate against his dick making a shiver go down his spine. 

This isn’t here first rodeo, the way she skillfully works her mouth on him, the way her tongue twists around his head or jerk of her hands. She’s done this before. But never with someone like him. 

She could tell you in all the times she had ever blew some guy in her past life, they never tasted of anything. Smelled like anything. But he did. He tasted sweet, like something she had never tasted before. It made her mouth water even more, saliva dripping down her chin as she worked her mouth along his length. 

And he must like what she’s doing as she feels the grip in her hair tighten, the feeling of her hair being slightly pulled making her moan around him. 

“You love this, don’t you?” He asks her lowly, his voice gruff. “Even in hell you can’t control yourself. Dropping to your knees, begging me to fuck your pretty mouth.” Michael groans. 

She’s looking up at him with hooded eyes, his words making her ache more, making her work her mouth harder, taking him as far as she can, until his dick reaches resistance at the back of her throat. His teeth coming to sink into his bottom lip as he watches, throaty moans coming from him. 

And even with him this deep in her mouth, she wants more. Wants more of him. Wants to taste more of him. The need to feel him tug at her hair, to watch his eyes roll back into his head, to feel his hips sputter up into her mouth, to hear his moans and degradings of her. She needed it all. 

“You take it so good.” Michael murmurs. “You’re so good.” 

Both of his hands come to either side of her face and she knows to stop moving without him asking, as he thrusts his hips up into her mouth. The noises her mouth makes and the way she gags around him, doesn’t stop him. It makes the throaty moans fall from his open mouth more, his breath coming out heavier, in fast puffs. He was close. 

And the anticipation of feeling him empty himself into her mouth, the warmth of it dripping down her tongue and throat, made needy moans come from her. 

But, she was left a little disappointed when he pulled himself from her mouth. One of his hands still tangled in her hair, while the other wraps itself around his dick stroking himself fast. 

“Do you want it?” 

She nods with a moan as she opens her mouth for him. 

“Tell me how bad you want it.” He stares down at her with a slight scowl, his breath heavy. “Beg me for it.” 

“Please.” She whines. “I want it so bad. Want to taste you.” 

“So needy.” He groans and his eyes roll back, his hand stroking himself faster, until he’s coming with a low throaty moan, his hot seed coating her tongue and chin. 

She moans at the taste. It’s sweet, sweeter than the tate of his dick against her tongue. And not like any other she has tasted before. In her past life she hardly, if ever, let men come in her mouth. The taste alone made her stomach sour. But this was different. Michael was different. Not like anyone she had ever let get this far with her. 

His breathing is still heavy and he watches her with a satisfied smirk as she swipes the remaining off her chin and licks it clean off of her fingers. 

She doesn’t notice that he’s already put himself back in his pants and that his demeanor is back to his cool, calm and collected. His hair still perfectly, his clothes, specifically his pants area having no proof of what just happened. 

She doesn’t feel a burn in her throat from his length like she wishes she could. Her never ending, can’t feel anything status back. 

“It’s time to go now.” He says cooly, a small smile on his face. He reaches out her hand to her and she takes it, standing from her knees. 

He doesn’t say anything else about what just happened, and she doesn’t dare to. She almost wants to ask him if they could do this again. She wouldn’t mind. She’d love to. And when she’s out of hell the possibilities of things they could do would be endless and the thought makes her ache come back, and a smirk form across her lips

**Author's Note:**

> you can request michael writings over on my tumblr @ langdvns, requests are always open! thank you for reading xo


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